Jeon Wonwoo.

Wonwoo.

The name of the guy from yesterday kept on reappearing on my mind and somehow the thought of him giving me his number tickled the deepest part of my heart. “Jeon Wonwoo…” I let the name rolled off my tongue, it tasted sweet, mysterious, almost even tragic. How could a name even taste something? I took the crumpled napkin from the pocket of my coat that was hanging on the arm of the sofa, straightened it out, and stared at the letters and numbers that were present there. The face of the guy flashed before my eyes. And I felt as if I had known him from before, not as the person from the Carat Cafe nor as the guy from the bakery, it was as if I had known him from way before but I could not quite put my finger on it.

"Joshua give me that bag!"

I crampled the napkin and put it inside my pocket again and grabbed the bag Jeonghan asked me to give him. He was busy decorating the apartment with balls, flowers, socks, and Christmas whatnots, and I could only help him by handing him the things he needed. I never really liked Christmas not that I experienced it during childhood anyway.

"Here," I said as I reached to him the bag, which I presumed contained more Christmas decorations.

Jeonghan said his thanks before taking it from my hand, he almost fell from the ladder he was on, and it made my heart race with worry. I put my hands on both of the sides of the ladder to steady it. "Want to switch?" I offered, I did not want him getting injuries from decorating the apartment for a nonsense occassion. 

"Nope, I'm fine!" He chirped and proceeded into hanging the balls on the tree.

"You really love Christmas, huh?" I commented.

Jeonghan hummed happily. "You don't?"

"Not that I know what it's about." I regretted what I said. 

"Eh? Don't you celebrate it in America? You always go home for winter break so you must have celebrated it with your family, right?"

"Not really," I answered honestly. "Never mind the details though," I chuckled, trying to hide the acid behind my words.

Jeonghan remained quiet and I thought that he did not hear me but when I looked up I saw his hold of the decorations, he was gripping them tightly and his face looked as if he wanted to say something but decided otherwise and he just let out a long sigh. I knew that he was starting to get tired of my continous evation of the topic that concerned my past. I knew that he wanted me to open up to him, to bare to him the secrets of my childhood and of six